Ill-Intentioned People
by Cut Into Dreams
Summary: 5 year old Olivia Griffith wakes up to her mother being kidnapped, and goes to her mommy's "friend," Mr. Reid, for help. Set in Season 11, featuring the original characters Rebecca and Olivia Griffith. May divert from canon, depending on where the season goes. Reid/OC
1. The Little Girl with the Yellow Blanket

_"Don't underestimate me. I know more than I say, think more than I speak, and notice more than you realize."  
_ -Author Unknown

* * *

The commuter bus pulled away, leaving in its wake a young child.

Drastically young.

Frighteningly young.

Shouldn't-be-riding-a-bus-by-herself-and definitely not-to-this-place young.

At first, the guard thought he was imagining things. But after a shake of his head a split-second interaction with an agent going to park their car, the little girl with the yellow blanket and tiny stuffed...bunny rabbit?...was still there. She seemed confused - which made sense - and troubled by her thoughts. Perhaps she got lost? It was more likely than the alternative, which was that she deliberately came to Quantico by herself, in her pajamas, at 7 in the morning on a school day. Having noticed that an authority figure was watching her, she made her way to the guard, making sure to check the street multiple times before and whilst crossing.

The guard exited his station - knowing very well that it might have been a bad idea - and knelt down as the little girl approached. Up close, he could gather more details. She was no more 5 or 6 years old, she had a tendency to suck on the corners of her blanket (as she was doing now), and something in her world was very, very wrong.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked when she stopped in front of him. His friends always teased him for being so threatening that he could frighten federal agents, so he tried his damnedest to be unintimidating. This girl didn't need to be anymore scared than she already was.

She briefly removed her blanket-covered thumb from her mouth.

"I need to see Mr. Reid, please." She said politely. The desperation in her eyes told him that she was putting on a front, trying to maintain what little composure she had left. The guard thought for a moment on who "Mr. Reid" could be. There were two males working at Quantico with the last name "Reid," though they each spelt it differently. He considered inquiring about the spelling, but figured that she may very well not know that. He took a different approach.

"Do you know what Mr. Reid looks like, sweetheart?"

The girl, possibly sensing trouble, closed her blanket around herself before mumbling an answer.

"He's tall, with curly hair. He likes to wear vests and pretty colored shirts. Mommy likes his shirts. Says not many boys feel comfortable in colors."

The guard immediately recognized the description, and briefly wondered when the doctor had a kid. He wiped the thought away, though. The girl didn't call him "Daddy," but "Mr. Reid." She knew him well enough to describe the types of clothes he regularly wears, but not well enough to drop the distancing respect of a prefix. Maybe she knew him through her mom? Where was her mom, anyway? Judging by the girl's distress and the time of day, the answer probably wasn't good.

He slowly stood up and offered a hand to the girl.

"Come on, sweetheart," He said, nodding towards the booth's open door, "Let's go call Mr. Reid."

A flash of fear crossed her face and jolted through her tiny body as she took a small step backward.

"Mommy says 'No'." She stated firmly, though a quiver of apprehension was noticeable. Her eyes were fixed on the booth's door, as though it were a dangerous monster that needed to be kept in its place, and she was determined to see that it was.

 _Makes sense,_ he figured. Her mom had probably warned her not to go anywhere with strangers, and the girl took "anywhere" to also mean small, enclosed spaces with little-to-no vantage points. It was for the best, really. The girl knew what danger looked like, at least.

"Alright," he complied softly, "but you stay right here in view of the doorway, where I can see you. I'll call the front desk and have they send someone down who can take you to Mr. Reid, okay?"

The girl nodded begrudgingly, still glaring at the door as though it were made of venomous snakes. The guard slipping into the booth and picked up the phone. "What's your name, sweetheart?" he asked as he dialed the front desk.

"Olivia," She spoke, just loud enough to be heard. Maybe she was scared that loud sounds would startle the door. He was about to ask for her last name, as well, when the front desk picked up.

"Yeah, I got a little girl down here in Garage A," He told them, "Says her name is 'Olivia' and that she needs to Dr. Reid... No, she's completely alone; she came on the commuter bus..." He lowered his voice as he answered their next question, "Nothing noticeable, no. Judging by the time of day and the fact that she's alone, I'm gonna say she's either a victim or witness. Alright, she'll be here with me."

He turned to Olivia as he hung up the phone.

"Alright, sweetheart, someone will be down shortly to take you to Mr. Reid. If I promise to keep the door open, will you wait with me in the booth?"

Maybe it was his promise, or the promise of another person arriving soon, that quelled her fears, but the little girl Olivia made her way in the booth. She kept an extra-wide berth of the door, though.

 **~0~**

"Dr. Reid," The agent answered as he picked up his desk phone.

"Dr. Reid, we have a young girl named 'Olivia' here to see you," The voice on the other end informed him, "An agent is bringing retrieving her now. Do you know Olivia?"

"Yes, I do," He answered, a mild panic flavoring his tone, "Is she here alone?"

"Yes," The voice, probably an agent –in-training, confirmed, "The security officer that called her in witnessed her exiting a commuter bus in front of Garage A. No one was with her."

Though he tried desperately to remain calm, Reid's once mild panic was growing more and more severe. It was 7:32 in the morning on a Thursday in October. Rebecca and Olivia should be eating breakfast. So why was Olivia here and where was Rebecca?

The voice started again, interrupting his nearly frantic train of thought. "Agent Clarke has confirmed pick up. They're on their way to you now."

A dull "thank you" stumbled out of Reid's mouth. Okay, he had to get it together. Olivia was here and she was probably frightened. Whatever happened, she came to him for help. She trusted him to be able to handle this, so he would.

Across the way, Dr. Lewis noticed his discomfort.

"Reid?" She called softly, "You okay?"

Tara Lewis watched as the younger doctor's eyebrows scrunched and his lower lip disappeared beneath teeth in the way that usually happened when he couldn't get his head straight.

"Uuuuh…no?" He answered, though it sounded more like a question. Perhaps he, himself, didn't know if he was okay. Or perhaps he wasn't sure whether or not to answer her sincerely, and was waiting to gauge her response.

Before she had the opportunity to figure it out, the elevator doors dinged.

Reid shot up out of his chair and fervently paced across the bullpen to the currently-open glass doors. Across the hall, a little girl, accompanied by an agent, exited the elevator. When she saw Reid, her tense body language relaxed, but only slightly. Her hunched shoulders fell back, but not fully. Her knuckles, once white with the forced being used to grip her blanket, regained color. And her eyes, once darting around and trying to observe as much as possible as quickly as possible, were now trained solely on Reid.

The little girl hastened up to him, and he bent down to pick her up. She snuggled slightly into his arms, but her body language was still on alert. Before Reid could greet her, the little girl opened her mouth with severe gravity.

"Somebody took Mommy."

Reid froze, his brown eyes staring into Olivia's, looking for any sign of deceit. The little girl was dead-calm, and she was dead-serious.

Tara, who had at some point apparently joined them, and Agent Clarke obviously heard the young girl's statement and immediately went into action.

"What's your mommy's full name, kiddo?" Agent Clarke asked, ready to make note of her answer in his phone.

"Rebecca Griffith," Olivia answered in a detached, rehearsed tone. She proceeded to list off her home address, her home phone number, her mother's cell phone number, and two in-case-of-emergency contacts. Reid recognized the name of Rebecca's best friend and Rebecca's mother as the contacts.

"Where was your mom taken from, sweetie, do you know?" Lewis asked in a delicate tone.

Olivia's calm and alert demeanor was slowly dissolving as she began to remember whatever it was that she witnessed.

"From her room," She said, a small whine breaking through her once docile voice, "She didn't want to go, I don't think. They didn't ask. Just kinda took her."

"I'll get the local police to the house immediately," Agent Clarke stated placing his phone to his ear and returning to the elevator. Reid and Lewis hardly paid him any mind.

"How many of them were there?" Lewis asked next, noting from the barely restrained terror on Reid's face that it was probably best for her to take the lead at the moment.

Olivia took a second to consider before saying, "Two, I think. I saw one real well, but the other guy was in the shadows too much."

"They were both men?" Tara continued as Morgan and Garcia walked over.

"What's going on?" Derek asked, his eyebrows knotted and his shoulders braced. He had seen the situation from down the hall and immediately classified it as "not good". And if Reid's tense jaw and dear-in-headlights eyes were anything to go on, he was right.

"Two men took Olivia's mom." Tara answered, figuring that new arrivals could easily deduce who 'Olivia' was.

A startled 'oh' escaped Garcia's lips as her eyes focused on the little tiny girl in Spencer Reid's arms. She snuggled closer into the man's embrace, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Or maybe it was just Penelope's staring. She looked away.

"When did they take her?" Morgan asked, the question directed at no one in particular, though Olivia was the only one who knew the answer.

"Early," she mumbled into her blanket-cover fist, "Before the sun came up."

Something in her response must have snapped Reid back into the land of living, as the next question came from him.

"Olivia, baby," He started, using the pet name that her mother usually used, "Why didn't you call the police? That's what you're supposed to do in emergencies, not hop on a bus to Quantico."

The girl's eyes snapped to Reid's, and he was – as always- taken aback but how much she resembled her mother, both physically and behaviorally.

"Because the police wouldn't trust me," The child growled seriously, "You know just like I do that people judge each other in a one-size-fits-all kinda way. I saw them take my momma. I saw one super good – good enough to draw you a picture. I can tell you how tall they were, how big they were, how they moved, how they talked. But the police wouldn't care. They would only see me as a scared little girl because that's the size they think should fit. You know better than that. You know that I can help, and I expect you to let me."

The four adults surrounding her stood in contemplative, and impressed, on Garcia's part, silence for a few moments. This wasn't their jurisdiction, but the girl was right. They knew what an asset she could be, especially if she was serious about how well she saw one of the UNSUBs. Still, there was credence to be given to the idea that she was scared little girl who just witnessed the kidnapping of her mother. Pushing her to relieve it as many times as they would need to could very easily do even more damage. Not to mention the fact that Hotch probably already had other cases in mind for them to work on.

Olivia, seemingly sensing their apprehension, wriggled out of Spencer's arms and stormed over to one of the desks in the bullpen. She addressed the person working there – Agent Anderson – and requested used of a pen and the legal pad sitting off to the side. Anderson nodded and handed the angry girl a blue pen.

The others stalked over as she began fervently sketching a detailed profile of a man with a strong jawline and a dark ski cap. When she was finished, she turned to the four adults looming over her and held up the rough sketch of the man she saw.

"His hair was red," she stated firmly, a bite of frustrated annoyance to her tone, "Not like a red crayon, but like an orange crayon. His skin was pale, but not super pale. Not like the Jeremy from down the street. He had a few freckles all over his face and his nose was crooked, but slim. He was about an inch taller than the other guy, but the other guy had broader shoulders, which he tossed my mom over before crawling out the window," she finished a few octaves higher than when she began. Once done, she slammed the legal pad back on Anderson's desk and took turns glaring at each of the four other adults, willing them to challenge her.

"What's going on here?" She heard from behind. She briefly considered looking to see who asked, but decided against it. She wasn't done glaring yet.

Dr. Lewis looked towards her towards Hotch and Rossi, who were currently standing on the other of the desk of a very uncomfortable Agent Anderson, and gave them a slight shrug.

"I think we just got a case."

* * *

 ** _First chapter of my story Ill-Intentioned People. The story is projected to follow the stories of original characters Rebecca and Olivia Griffith. _**

_**Rebecca Griffith** is an unmarried 32 year old mother of one, who works from home by **producing educational articles and videos about current events** around the world. __She has a Masters degree in Mass Media Communication, a Bachelors in International Relations, and **recently received her PhD in Transregional History from Georgetown**. She occasionally **guest lectures at universities** up and down the East Coast, often taking Olivia with her on her travels._

 _ **Olivia Griffith** is the 5 year old daughter of Rebecca Griffith. She's very well-spoken on most days, but loses herself when tired, anxious, or otherwise inhibited. **She is a prodigy** in traditional art, though her handwriting is lackluster, and has a knack for science. Her pediatrician thinks she **might be on the autistic spectrum** , but isn't sure. She has recommended against testing, as the scale for autism is extremely unbalanced and won't provide any solid answers. As of now, Olivia simply lives her life. **She attends Feynman School** for gifted children._

 _ **I currently have no concept for how long this story will go, seeing as it's more of a biographical profile than a single-plot piece. If this story interests you, feel free to strap in and enjoy the ride.**_

 _ **If you noticed any errors in spelling, grammar, or continuity, please let me know.**_

 _ **Sincerely,  
Cut Into Dreams**_


	2. Dark Walls and Shadowed Corners

_"_ _A child's fear is a world whose dark corners are quite unknown to grownup people; it has its sky and its abysses, a sky without stars, abysses into which no light can ever penetrate."_  
\- Julien Green

* * *

"Rebecca Griffith," Garcia began reading from her laptop as her colleagues stood around her in the conference room, "Grew up in Charlottesville, Virginia, went to school in New York where she got her Bachelor's degree in International Relations, went on to get a Masters in Communications from the University of Virginia in 2006, and recently acquired her PhD in... "Transregional History" from Georgetown. Wow. Busy Girl.

"She had lovely little Olivia in September of 2010, no father listed on birth certificate..."

"He voluntarily terminated his parental rights to Olivia before she was born." Reid offered, his attempt at seeming apathetic useless against a room of profilers, "Last Rebecca knew, he was living somewhere in California. His name is Brandon Jameson."

"Brandon Jameson is...living in Oklahoma City - guess he never made to Cali," Penelope commented, "He shows no indication of recently traveling to the East Coast or trying to get into contact with Rebecca. Not even a Facebook friend request."

"Keep an eye on him," Rossi offered from his seat across the table, "He might still be involved somehow."

Garcia nodded and quickly wrote a program to track Jameson's financial activity. Any large deposits or withdrawals from his account and she'd know before his bank did.

"Reid," Agent Hotchner addressed the younger man, "Is there anyone else you can think of that would have a vendetta against Dr. Griffith?" Honestly, the lead agent truly wanted to inquire about the nature of doctors' relationship. Reid hadn't spoken a word of this 'Rebecca,' yet he knew the name of the man who abandoned her and had a comfortable enough relationship with her daughter that he was the first one she went to when trouble arose. Still, there was a time and place those questions, and it was neither here nor now.

Reid took a minute to ponder the question- and to run through a very long list in his head- before responding.

"No one that stands out," He answered honestly, "She makes a living by writing comprehensive articles and producing educational videos about some pretty controversial topics, so she usually gets a lot of threats. Nothing's come from any of them, though."

"I'll run through the comment sections of her videos and articles," Garcia stated, collecting up her laptop and scribbling a note to herself on her forearm, "See if there are certain IP addresses that stand out as particularly threatening. I'm off to go troll hunting!"

As the technician flounced out of the room and back to her office, the agents turned towards the white board placed in the front of the room.

On it was Rebecca Griffith's driver's license photo, captioned with her name, date of birth, and missing date. The sight made Reid's stomach churn. He couldn't fathom Rebecca as a victim, and yet here she wasn't. Her little girl, her proudest achievement, was sitting in a dark office with two people she didn't know, reliving what would undoubtedly be one of the worst mornings of her life. Her mother, currently driving up from Charlottesville, was probably worried sick. Her closest friend was stuck in Bethesda, her brother was hiking in the Rocky Mountains and had no idea she was missing, and her romantic partner was sitting in a conference room, staring at her picture on a board and trying not to lose his mind.

He could account for every active member of her life. Everyone but her. And it was driving him insane.

There had to be something he missed, some reason for two men to kidnap in the dark of night from her own damned house. There had to be something. So where was it? And where was she?

 **~0~**

Olivia sat on the couch in Mr. Morgan's office, warily examining the darkened room as Mr. Morgan and Ms. Lewis pulled up two chairs and sat in front of her.

"Olivia," Mr. Morgan started, his voice noticeably softer from how he spoke earlier, when they were in the larger office space with all of the people. And all of the light. "What we're going to do here is called a "Cognitive Interview". Do you know what that means?"

Olivia shook her head, still studying the dark walls and shadowed corners, as though they held the most dangerous secrets in the world. And for all she knew, they may have.

Derek and Tara took note of the girl's palpable anxiety. She was obviously – and understandably – upset. Chances were that the trauma she suffered earlier this morning was finally starting to settle in her brain, and being in a strange room with strange people and no light was clearly not helping. Still, there wasn't much they could do about it right now, so they continued.

"A cognitive interview is when we take you back to a certain time and place," Tara explained, treading _very_ lightly around the fidgety girl, "There are memories that are locked away in your mind, and a cognitive interview will help us get them out."

Olivia's composure continued to dwindle as a few stray tears fell from her eyes. She wanted to be strong for her mother. She _needed_ to be strong for her mother. But she was scared. She was scared and alone and she just wanted a hug.

"Will it hurt?" She asked, her voice cracking and her eyes settling on a blank space on the back wall.

Tara shook her head softly. "No, sweety," she replied honestly, "You won't feel a thing."

"Is it scary?"

"It can be," Derek told her, continuing with Tara's honesty, "but we'll be right here with you the entire time. Nothing bad can happen to you."

For whatever reason, this seemed to have to opposite effect that the agents were hoping for. Instead of being reassured by the promise of their presence, Olivia became even more anxious. She scooted as far back into the couch as she could, pulled her legs into her chest, buried her face in her knees, and mumbled, barley loud enough to hear, "I want Mr. Reid, please."

 **~0~**

Tara appeared in the conference room door, a slightly concerning look in her eyes.

"Reid," she called out, motioning out the doorway, "Olivia wants you."

A brief look of terror overtook the young man's face as he bolted away from the white board and out the door.

He knew he shouldn't have left Olivia alone, he freaking knew it. She was a strong, smart girl with a tenacity befitting Alexander the Great, but she was still a little girl. A little girl who was taught to stay away from strangers, who was scared of the dark, and who just lost her mom. Reid was the only familiar face she had right now, and he had left her. Alone. With strangers. In the dark.

When he got to Morgan's office, the lights were still off, but the door was cracked open. He entered slowly, so as not to startle Olivia, and made his way over to the little girl quaking in her yellow blanket.

"Olivia," He said softly, kneeling down next to her, "honey, what's wrong? Why are you scared?" It was a ridiculous question; he knew. But Olivia, like Rebecca, never appreciated it when people assumed that they knew something. As Rebecca always said: Stupid questions are better than no questions.

Olivia shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. Understandable. On top of everything else that was probably bothering her right now, it was likely that she was dealing with a massive emotional overload. It was almost unreasonable to expect her to sift through everything and come back with a coherent response. Right now, all they could do was try to pull her out it long enough to get the interview done. After that, she would feel sated in her contribution to finding her mother and finally be able to relax. Or cry. Whichever she preferred.

Reid took a hold of one of her tiny little hands and ran his thumb across her fingers, just like Rebecca does. "Do you still want to do the interview, Liv?"

Olivia took a shaky breath and nodded. She unfurled and scooted closer to the two men in front of her. Upper lip still quivering, she took a few deep breaths before looking in Morgan's direction.

"Okay, Olivia," Morgan started, "What I'm gonna need you to do is close your eyes. Softly. Like you're pretending to sleep."

Olivia complied and Derek continued.

"Now I want you to think back to this morning. As far back as you can. What's the first thing you remember?"

"Dark," she replied instantly, "It was dark. Mommy turned off my Night Time lap. She does that."

"Okay Olivia, what happened after that? What was the second thing you noticed?"

"A…a voice." She said, her own voice trembling.

" _Dude, just shut up, alright? It's gonna be fine."_

 _Olivia froze in her bed. That was a man's voice. And not Mr. Reid's. And it was dark. There shouldn't be a not-Mr. Reid-man in the house when it's dark; especially not when it's bedtime._

" _I don't think 'kidnapping' is gonna be fine, man."_

 _Oh no. There was another voice. Two men. And they were talking about kidnapping. And they weren't supposed to be in the house. And they were going to kidnap someone. But it was only her and her mommy. Who were they going to…oh. Oh. Oh no._

 _Olivia slid further under her blankets as she heard the two men come upstairs. Should she scream? No, then they'd nowhere to find her. Maybe if she just hid under her blankets more, they'd go away._

 _The footsteps walked past her bedroom door. Ha! They didn't find her! Now they'd go away!_

 _Oh. Oh no. They were going into her mommy's room. She could hear them turn the corner, open her door. They walked in. They were going to kidnap her mommy. Can people kidnap mommies? Is that allowed?_

 _Olivia slid out of bed and cracked open her door. She could still hear voices, but not like before. They were quieter, whispering. She snuck out her room and tiptoed down the hall, avoiding the creaky floorboard in front of the towel closet. She peered around the corner and saw into her mommy's room._

 _There were two men standing on either side of Mommy's bed. One man motioned to the window, the other argued about something. Eventually, the other man, the shorter one with the wider shoulders and bigger arms, picked Mommy up and put her over his shoulder. Mommy didn't look right. She should've woken up._

 _The other man, the taller one without Mommy, said something else to the shorter man, before moving towards the bedroom door._

 _Olivia darted away from the corner and slid into the towel closet, the sound of the creaking floorboard masked by the man's footsteps. Through the shutters of the door, she could see the man. She committed his face to memory, intentionally storing it away for later use, and waited until she heard him leave._

 _When the patio door closed, she quietly emerged from the closet._

"I went and got Emergency Money from the Pug bowl," She said, "And walked to the bus stop that Aunt Jess told me about. They didn't want to let me on, but I said I really needed to get to Quantico, please, and they agreed."

Derek nodded, ignoring the "pug bowl" comment for now.

"You drew us a pretty good sketch of the first guy, Olivia," he told her, "Do you think you can do that for the second guy, as well?"

Olivia shook her head almost violently, her tears coming back.

"No," she nearly sobbed, "I didn't see him real well. I don't remember him."

"Do you remember looking into your mom's room?" Reid asked, knowing how Olivia's visual memories tended to work. The young girl nodded, and Reid continued, "Do you think you could draw that? What you saw when you looked in there?"

She nodded once more, and Reid went to lift her off of the couch.

"Then why don't we go back to my desk," He offered as he braced Olivia at his side, "we'll get you some blank paper and a pencil, and you can draw what you saw."

"Will that help?" Olivia asked quietly, mumbling into her yellow blanket.

"It won't be as good as having his photograph," Reid answered truthfully, knowing Olivia didn't respond well when she thought she was being deceived, "But it'll give us something to go on. Think you can do that, Liv?"

Olivia nodded for the third time, and Spencer walked them out of the Morgan's office.

 **~0~**

It was cold.

That was the first thing she noticed: how cold she was. Her immediate response was to wonder why there were no blankets covering her when she distinctly remembered crawling under her comforter last night.

The second thing she noticed was the hard, dirt floor in place of where her mattress should be. The third: her hands and feet were bound.

Rebecca shifted as much as she could, propping herself against some kind of stone wall so she could _kind of_ sit up and get a look at where she was.

 _A basement_ , she thought to herself, _and an old one._ It reminded her of childhood friend, Lindsay Ann. Lindsay Ann had an old house on the outskirts of Charlottesville, and it had a dirt-floor basement. She and Lindsay used to play pretend in the basement whenever Rebecca came over to visit.

But this wasn't Lindsay's house. And whoever brought her here wasn't playing pretend. A bolt of fear rushed through as she remembered Olivia.

Where was Olivia? Was she okay? Did these people have her? Did these people _hurt_ her? If whoever did this laid _one hand_ on her baby girl…

Rebecca stopped herself as she felt her heart rate jump. An anxiety attack wouldn't help her or Olivia right now. She had to stay calm and figure this all out. She couldn't do any good for her baby while she was confused and tied up. She had to figure out what was going on, and she had to get out of these restraints.

Though her hands were bound behind her back, Rebecca had a decent visual on her legs. Over the fabric of her fleece sweatpants a long piece of twine wrapped maybe five or six times around her ankles. From what she could feel through the flannel shirt she stole from her brother a few years ago, the same material seemed to tie her wrists together. She took a moment to consider what this may have said about whoever took her.

It was probably one of two possibilities. Either they were a first-timer, and didn't really understand what they were doing. If they were experienced, they'd have probably tied her up with something thicker than twine. Maybe a rope or duct tape. Something that wouldn't be easy for weasel her way out of.

On the other hand, twine was strong and sturdy. Her dad always had 3 spools of it: one for the home garage, one for the work garage, and one for his car. He used to joke that he could hitch a trailer onto the back on his car with nothing more than some twine and a good knot. It held strong, and it didn't wear out easily. So maybe her kidnapper had a history – either personal or familial – that allowed them to know that.

In the first case she had the upper hand. Her kidnapper was inexperienced and thus, probably had little to no plan. This gave her leverage. In the second case, the kidnapper knew what they were doing, and her leverage was severely lessened.

Still, she wasn't about to go down without a fight.

Rebecca figured she could undo the knot around her wrists with her teeth if she could just get her hands back in front of her. She also figured if daily yoga practices were ever going to pay off, it would be now.

 **~0~**

"Can you stay in here with Grandma for a little while, Liv?" Spencer asked as he led Olivia to where her grandmother was waiting in Hotch's office, "I'm sure she could use your comfort."

Olivia nodded obediently as Reid opened the office door, drawing the attention of the frazzled older woman standing by the window.

"Oh Spencer!" She called, rushing over to him and wrapping him in a tight hug, "How did this happen? What's even going on? Is Olivia okay? Olivia, are you okay my little ladybug?"

Olivia gave a stiff smile to her grandmother and responded in the affirmative. Reid noticed her grip on his hand tighten slightly, and understood her discomfort. Both Olivia and her mother were reserved by nature, while Grandma Audrina was much more…Garcia-like. While the young girl could normally reciprocate her grandmother's enthusiasm on any normal day, today was far from normal. Besides, it was hardly 9 am, and Olivia usually doesn't begin functioning well until at least 10.

Wait.

"Audrina," Reid asked as the older woman cooed over her granddaughter, "How did you get here so quickly? The drive from Charlottesville to Quantico usually averages-"

"I'd rather not disclose that information to a federal agent, if you don't mind," Audrina half-joked, though the underlying threat in her tone told Reid to drop the subject.

He nodded his head, gave Olivia a quick kiss on the hand (she didn't like it when people kissed her face), and walked toward the conference room just as Anderson was leaving it.

"The police in Springfield have secured the scene," Hotch told him as he entered the room full of his colleagues, "The personal nature of this case has convinced them to give it to us willingly. You, Morgan, and Lewis will go examine the crime scene. Is Olivia with her grandmother?"

Spencer nodded.

"Good," Hotch confirmed, "Then get on the road. Springfield is-"

"36 minutes away," Spencer finished in a flat tone, following Derek and Tara as they walked out of the conference room.

* * *

 _ **I've created a general outline for this story, and it looks to be about 8 chapters long, with the chapters varying in length. The story will feature "flashbacks" occasionally, which will be typed in full italics. If you have trouble reading in full italics, let me know and I can provide copies of the flashback scenes in regular typeface.**_

 _ **As always, please let me know if you catch any spelling, grammar, or continuity errors. Keep in mind that some mishaps (fragmented sentences for emphasize, poor grammar to match speaking patterns, ect.) are intentional.**_

 _ **Sincerely,  
Cut Into Dreams**_


End file.
